


Fading Starlight

by jordieey



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Moving On, Not A Fix-It, Other, POV Tauriel, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 06:33:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18911506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jordieey/pseuds/jordieey
Summary: After Kili's death, Tauriel doesn't cope. Until she does.Or: Tauriel meets Galadriel, and learns to live again.Takes place before See You Again.





	Fading Starlight

The stars used to be beautiful. 

They twinkled merrily in the sky without a care, heedless of the blood-soaked grounds of Middle-Earth. A few winked in and out of existence in random intervals, only seeming to shine brighter when they reappeared.

Thousands of bright lights were scattered across the sky, creating beauty where they might have been nothing but a black blanket.

Looking at the silvery lights, Tauriel felt...cold. 

It was the kind of cold that sunk into her very bones, spreading throughout her entire body. Ice gripped her throat, coming dangerously close to strangling her. Her ears felt as though they were frostbitten. 

Tauriel drew in a deep breath, vaguely aware of tears working their way down her temples and falling into her hair. Shards of ice stabbed into her heart. 

“I always thought it was a cold light,” she heard Kili say. “Remote and far away.” 

Her chest heaved as she let out a soft sob. Tauriel’s eyes squeezed shut, forcing more tears to fall. 

“It is a memory; precious and pure.”

Was Kili up there? Tauriel wondered, forcing her eyes open once more. Was that what happened when beings died? Did they become stars? Tauriel could not recall hearing anything like that happening. Eleves went to the Halls of Mandos after death, supposedly, before being sent back to Middle-Earth. If they deserved to. Or wanted to. 

Dwarves...Tauriel was not sure what type of afterlife they had, if any. Surely, if they did, their afterlife was different from elves’. 

Which meant there truly was no chance of seeing her ridiculous dwarf again. 

“I always thought it was a cold light. Remote and far away.”

/Oh, mime mel/ Tauriel thought. /I did not understand before, but I do now./

Tauriel shivered. 

****  
Kneeling by the wheezing deer, Tauriel pulled her knife from her belt. With a deft flick of her wrist, she drove the blade between its ribs, ending the creature’s existence. 

She sat back on her heels. Blood seeped slowly from the deer’s wounds even now, becoming clotted in its once glossy coat. Its black eye stared sightlessly at the sky, and Tauriel found herself wondering if the deer had seen beauty in its last moments.

Kili hadn’t. 

He’d died on top of a cold mountain, a sword driven through his stomach. There had been no kin nearby to attempt to save him, or at least fill his gaze as he departed from this world.

He hadn’t died alongside his brother. In his last moments, Kili had not been with his brother, which was surely the worst of crimes. 

No, the last thing he had seen was Tauriel. An elf. His “natural” enemy.

Where was the justice in that?

Tauriel’s hands hovered over the deer, before slowly curling into fists and dropping into her lap. She should butcher it. Cook the meat and nourish herself. It had been almost a week since she had last eaten. Elves could go longer without food than other races, but even still, she should at least feel hungry by now.

Except she didn’t. Tauriel felt hollow, and yet the thought of eating sickened her. 

Her gaze dropped to her hands. They were pale, she realized. More so than usual. The veins in her wrists stood out starkly, a light blue contrasting with her white skin. 

With a start, Tauriel came to a sudden realization: she was fading.

Slowly but surely, she was fading.

****  
She found a family of cottagers in the forest. Tauriel had discovered them quite by accident, her sharp ears picking up on the sound of laughter as she contemplated her inevitable end. 

Before Tauriel was even consciously aware of what she was doing, she had scooped up her bow and started toward the sound. It was not difficult to follow, and soon Tauriel found herself perched in a tree, peering through the branches at two young children. Human children.

One was a girl with dark brown skin, her black hair hanging in two braids by her ears. A delighted grin lit up her face as she hefted an axe over her shoulder, before bringing it down upon a piece of wood, hewing it in two. Seeing this, the girl’s smile widened further, tossing a haughty look behind her. 

“Think you can do better, Hadwin?” the girl asked in Common. A boy of similar features approached her, reaching for the axe.

“Of course I can, dear sister. I am the man of the family, after all.”

The girl crossed her arms, eyes narrowed. “I’m the eldest,” she quipped back. “And we both know the eldest is always preferred.” 

Bumping playfully into her, the boy (Hadwin) resumed the chopping. And thus, the contest between brother and sister continued. 

Tauriel didn’t know what possessed her to do so, but she remained in the tree for at least an hour more, watching the children with vague fascination. After chopping wood, Hadwin and his sister (Anthea was her name) spent some time batting sticks at each other in an attempt to recreate a sword fight. At one point, Hadwin knocked Anthea onto her back, pointing the stick at her throat playfully. Anthea retaliated by knocking him down the next round. 

Eventually, a woman appeared. She had a basket hanging over her arm and a spear in her hand. She greeted the children with enthusiasm, folding each of them into a hug and asking them what they had been up to. A dog exited the house, sniffing her happily. 

The family didn’t seem to be too poorly, all things considered. The children’s mother seemed quite able to provide for them, and in fact, young Hadwin and Anthea showed no obvious signs of suffering.  
And yet, despite this, they were all just a bit too skinny. The mother especially seemed dangerously close to rivalling Tauriel’s own weight, which she knew was quite dangerous for humans. Elves were naturally quite light, making them excellent hunters and (although it was less common for women) fighters. Tauriel had, in fact, once heard a rumor that elves’ bones were completely hollow, allowing them to move around in near silence.

The mother should not be that thin. 

And so, sliding off her tree, Tauriel darted through the forest, notching an arrow in her bow. The deer from earlier had surely been found by a wolf by now, but this did not mean she could not help.

Fifteen minutes later, Tauriel carefully placed an antelope just outside the cottage, crouching low so as not to be seen. Casting a quick glance at a nearby window, Tauriel darted back to the safety of her chosen tree. Once settled safely on a branch, she brought her fingers to her mouth and let out a piercing whistle that would sound like a bird to anyone but an elf. The mother exited the house a few minutes later, spear in hand. She froze at the sight of the antelope, her mouth dropping open in silent surprise.

Visibly tensing, the woman lifted her spear, brown eyes darting around suspiciously. When her gaze passed over Tauriel’s tree, she drew back as much as she could, hoping her hair wouldn’t give her away.

After doing a quick walkaround of their little clearing, the women went back to the antelope, gazing at it uncertainly.

Tauriel held her breath. Surely she would take it––she had to. She knew not why, but for some reason, it felt immensely important that she accepted Tauriel’s gift. 

“Anthea, Hadwin,” the woman called eventually, her voice shaking. “We will be eating well tonight.”

The woman dragged the antelope into the cottage, the happy cries of her children reaching Tauriel’s ears.

For the first time since Kili’s death, Tauriel smiled. 

****  
Tempting as it was, Tauriel could not remain in that forest forever, feeding a family who she dared not reveal her existence to. 

She moved on, trekking across a grassy field before coming across a dirt road. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on Middle-Earth relentlessly. Its golden rays chased away the shadows, making Middle-Earth appear deceptively cheerful. A hummingbird flew past her head.

Following it with her eyes, Tauriel found herself wishing she could partake in the joy of the world, as she used to. But the ice that had taken root deep within her refused to melt.

Tauriel wondered how much time she had left. 

****  
Traveling with only the barest hints of supplies meant Tauriel’s hair, long as it was, became hopelessly tangled.

She sat in front of her small fire, attempting to comb her fingers through her hair with minimal success. A small pile of berries rested on a leaf by the fire, of which she had eaten only a small handful.

Sighing in frustration, Tauriel forcefully yanked her fingers through her red locks, trying to force a particularly stubborn knot to untangle. All this did was cause pain to flare through her already abused scalp. Making a frustrated sound, Tauriel seized her knife from her belt and brought it to her hair, intending to cut the damned locks off.

/“It’s beautiful, you know,” Kili said, almost shyly as he gazed her through the bars of his cell. “Your hair.”

Despite herself, Tauriel felt a warm flush begin at her neck. It was not uncommon for elffolk to compliment Tauriel on her beauty, but after some time, it had begun to feel redundant. Elves were naturally beautiful, and Tauriel, despite being a lowly Silvan elf, was no exception. Having such things said out loud seemed to lack purpose.

But to have a dwarf (to have Kili) bring attention to her hair, of all things, was...nice. 

“Thank you,” Tauriel said, fighting to keep her face blank. Charming or crude, this dwarf was a prisoner, and she could not forget that.

Kili gave her a bashful smile, looking down briefly. Bringing his gaze back to hers, he said, “I like your braids. Do they mean anything?” 

Tauriel cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”

“Your braids,” Kili said, gesturing to his own (loose and rather mangy) hair. “Dwarves have all kinds of braids––symbolizing marriage, warriors and so on. I was wondering if yours mean anything.”

Resisting the urge to touch the braids in question, she eyed the dwarf carefully. “I am afraid not; they are merely to lessen the inconvenience of my hair.” And then, without thinking, she added, “I have thought of cutting it.”

The look on Kili’s face could only be described as sheer horror. His brown eyes widened, and he took a half step toward the bars, as if to reach out and grab her. Or her hair. 

“You can’t do that!” he exclaimed. Tauriel must have looked startled, because he visibly attempted to regain control of himself. “It’s too beautiful to cut. You’d be better off letting /me/ braid it!”

The way he said, Tauriel guessed braiding hair was not Kili’s strong suit. She attempted to stifle a smile. 

“I may have to take you up on that offer,” she joked lightly, rather surprised at herself. “The Lady knows it is much too time-consuming.”

What was wrong with her? Why could she not seem to treat Ki––this /dwarf/ like the prisoner he was?

And then Kili smiled, bright and sincere, and her concern was briefly abated. 

“Gladly.”

Tauriel took a step back, perturbed to realize her heart was beating faster––and not because she had engaged in battle or practice. 

“I must return to my duties,” she announced sharply. Tauriel turned away, going to check on the rest of the prisoners.

Kili’s eyes followed her./

Presently, Tauriel slowly dropped the knife to her lap, once more attempting to finger comb her hair. She would pick up a comb at the next town to passed by, she decided.

Kili was going to haunt her until the end of all days. Tauriel knew it. 

****  
After purchasing a comb in a nearby town, Tauriel continued on.

In truth, she didn’t have any destination in mind. All Tauriel knew was that she simply could not stand to be in Mirkwood, where so many memories resided: Training to fight, becoming Captain of the Guard, a few dalliances here and there.

Learning of Legolas’ affections for her.

Being banished.

Meeting Kili…

It was all too much, and after Kili’s death, Tauriel had known she needed to go. She needed to escape to some place––she knew not where––where she had not already formed memories; where Kili did not haunt her behind every tree, rock, and bush. 

And so she travelled on, hunting game when she became hungry (which was not often enough). She untangled her hair and fixed into one long braid that went down her back, trying not to think of what Kili would do if he’d been the one to style it.

She felt herself continue to fade, feeling the ice cling to her heart, removing her from this world with agonizing slowness.

Surely Legolas would miss her, she thought sorrowfully. And then, Why was it taking so long? In all the stories she had head of elves fading from sheer grief, it had never taken this long. 

Why did her body seem to cling to life, if her soul had given up? 

****  
The woods around her were unfamiliar, yet, strangely enough, Tauriel found that she felt more at peace than she had since Kili’s death.

They were elvish woods––of this she was certain. A faint, silvery light seemed to hover over everything, originating from some unknown source. Underfoot, the grass was soft and lucious, offering an easy footpath to those travellers who wandered here. Every plant in sight seemed rich with life, butterflies and dragonflies darting around without a care, the silver light seeming to reflect of off their wings.

Crouching down, Tauriel surveyed a small cluster of pure white flowers, their petals unfolded fully as they turned their faces toward the moonlight. They reminded her of the gems her king had desired so much––pure starlight that invoked a feeling of such deep tranquility that Tauriel felts tears begin to form in her eyes. 

The spell suddenly broken, Tauriel stood hastily, dashing the tears away from her eyes. She couldn’t be here, it was simply too painful––

She froze, slowly lowering her hand.

In the distance, singing could be heard. Elf voices, certainly, although they did not sing anything like her fellow Mirkwood elves; surely their language could not be mocking, telling weary travelers that their ponies needed shoeing. 

On instinct, Tauriel closed her eyes, simply listening: 

*Tul- na nin, cin tired a heavui-laden  
tul- na nin with all cín weariness  
hi with nin na- where cin'll rad- cín lonn  
a im will on- cin post  
yes, im will on- cin post 

It was beautiful. The elves’ voices seemed to surround her, making weeks of tension fade from her shoulders. They sang softly, their singing slow and unhurried, with no true way to distinguish between the male and female voices. 

Tauriel felt certain that, should she follow the voices, she would come to a place that offered peace and rest. 

It was almost too tempting to resist.  
But resist it she did, for Tauriel needed to keep moving. Trekking across Middle-Earth had become almost a compulsion and, fading or not, Tauriel needed to keep going. 

For surely, no matter how safe this place seemed, seeing her own kind would only make Tauriel think of the feud between dwarves and elves. And that, in turn, would only make her think of Kili even more.

She couldn’t allow that.

And so, after double checking her gear, Tauriel picked a direction (although making sure it would take her away from the singing) and started walking. The leaves crinkled softly underfoot as she tried to block out the song, wondering if she should try to nourish herself with berries, despite not being hungry––

Tauriel froze. For a voice floated on the air, soft and lilting––

No, she realized, it wasn’t on the air. It appeared directly in her mind:

/You are lost, Daughter of the Forest/ the voice murmured. /Come. Rest./

Without her violation, Tauriel’s eyelids became suddenly heavy. She stumbled, reaching for her knife, only to fall, landing on the soft ground. 

As she lay, half curled on the ground, her cheek resting on some moss, a white light appeared before her. 

/I have seen the world fall away, and the white light of forever fill the air./

For just a moment, Tauriel’s vision was overcome with blue eyes and a kind smile, and then––white. 

As the darkness slowly overtook the white, Tauriel thought, with a strange sense of calm, /This is it./

She wondered if she would see Kili again. 

****  
Tauriel was only vaguely aware of what happened after that. 

She thought there might be a soft voice whispering in her mind, offering comfort.

There was a vague impression of being picked up in a pair of thin yet strong arms, of her head being cradled gently against the person’s shoulder. 

She was being moved. The whispering in her mind turned into song: 

I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:  
Of wind I sang, a wind there came, and in the branches blew.  
Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,  
And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.

The woman’s voice continued for some time, and by the time it had come to an end, Tauriel felt she was being placed upon a soft surface. A cool hand pressed to her forehead. 

/Rest, my child./

Tauriel drifted off.

****  
She awoke in a soft bed, the covers feeling heavy atop her body after months of sleeping in trees and upon the ground.

Holding herself still, Tauriel forced her eyes to remain shut as she listened to her surroundings. She could hear the soft chattering of birds nearby, the wind slowly moving between the trees, and still, the singing from earlier.

This was not what she had been expecting. Being kidnapped did not normally lead to one being taken to a place of comfort, least of all placed in a comfortable bed.

Unless...the bed was exactly why she was here.

As Tauriel opened her eyes, hand already moving toward her knife, a voice sounded from her left:

“Tauriel,” it said, “Daughter of the Forest.” 

In a flash, Tauriel was out of the bed and across the room, her knife (which, unlike her other weapons, hadn’t been taken) at the stranger’s throat. 

“Who are you?” she snarled, putting pressure against a milky white throat. “Where am I?”

The stranger didn’t even flinch. Instead, she gazed at Tauriel with a slight, knowing smile. She was an elf, perhaps a few inches taller than Tauriel herself. Laughing blue eyes met Tauriel’s own leafy gaze, and Tauriel resisted the urge to swallow nervously, feeling a sudden desire to look away. 

There was something about those eyes, a certain eerie glow, a look of such deep wisdom that not even Thranduil, for all his millenia of being alive, possessed. 

Tauriel was suddenly, dreadfully certain that woman, whoever she may be, could end her without so much as a thought.

And her voice, the one that had sounded through Tauriel’s mind before she passed out, spoke.

/I am Galadriel./ The elleth’s lips didn’t move. /Lady of Light. You are in Lorien, Daughter of the Forest./

Tauriel froze, feeling a sickening sensation coursing through her veins. Oh, by the Lady, what had she just /done?/

Stumbling back, Tauriel’s knife fell to the stone floor with a clatter, and she instantly dropped to one knee, bowing her head. For surely it was a queen who stood before her.

“I––I deeply apologize, my Lady,” Tauriel said. She saw the ends of the Lady’s pure white dress, bare toes exposed, but forced herself to gaze at the floor. Tauriel didn’t even deserve to be in the Lady’s presence, never mind looking upon her radiance. 

She had heard of the Lady of Light. Of course she had. There wasn’t an elf, even one as lowly as herself, that hadn’t. Galadriel was famous all across the lands, revered for her beauty and wisdom, and her leadership in the rebellion against Noldor. 

Galadriel was possibly the most important elf to ever exist. And Tauriel had just held a knife to her throat.

She wouldn’t blame her if Galadriel simply decided to strike her down right there.

The Lady’s bare feet came back into view, and Tauriel tensed, prepared for anything––

Except for Galadriel, the Lady of Light, to kneel in front of her. She certainly didn’t expect the cool fingers under her chin, tilting her head up so that she met the Lady’s gaze once more.

/Come, child/ she spoke in Tauriel’s mind. /There is no need for that./

And then she took Tauriel hands in her own, pulling her back up to her feet.

Tauriel didn’t know how to react, so she simply dropped her gaze, saying nothing.

Galadriel lifted her head again.

/Your soul is weary. It cries out for one who is lost./ A gentle smile. /Your body begins to fail you. But this cannot come to pass. Not yet./ She gently stroked Tauriel’s cheek, and the archer found herself unwittingly leaning into the soft caress, her eyelids fluttering. It had been so long since she had been touched in a kind manner. Tauriel hadn’t even known she’d been missing it. 

Taking her hand once more, Galadriel began to lead Tauriel over to the bed she had been laying in minutes before. At Galadriel’s light nudge, Tauriel hesitantly laid back down. Doing so felt like committing treason, but Tauriel couldn’t possibly deny the Lady of Light anything.

And so, as Galadriel draped the blankets over her, Tauriel still said nothing. Even when the Lady began to gently stroke her tightly bound hair, the way a mother might. 

/Your part in this story is not yet over. Rest. Heal./

And she did.

****  
Tauriel remained in Lorien for a month. In that time, she spent many hours simply wandering, taking in the beautiful sights of this realm. 

What struck Tauriel as odd was the complete lack of conflict anywhere. While there were many elves who trained in combat (mostly male, although there were a few elf-maids) there seemed to be few, if any, duals based around settling a disagreement. All the duals that Tauriel saw take place for the purpose of practice, or fun. 

In fact, during one dual, Tauriel could have sworn two elf-men, named Aranel and Jassin, flirted with each other while clashing their blades. No one seemed to look down on them for this. 

Yet another thing that struck Tauriel was the citizens themselves. Despite the fact that Tauriel was a mere Silvan elf, she had not yet met anyone who looked at her with what she was familiar with: contempt, disdain. Of course, when she and Galadriel were spotted together, there were whispers. She would expect nothing less. But if anyone thought that she did not deserve to even walk alongside the Fair Lady, they did not say it within her hearing. Nor had she heard anything along the lines of “No elf-maid should learn combat. Go back to your embroidery.” 

In short, Tauriel felt more at peace than she had in a long, long time. 

And she didn’t know what to do with that. 

Sitting on a stone bench among the trees, Tauriel leaned back on her hands, watching a humming flit across her field of vision. There seemed to be an abundance of them in Lorien, and Tauriel found them quite calming. They were beautiful birds, with silky feathers of green and blue. Rapid wing beats created a mere blur of where their wings should have been, and resulted in the humming sound they were known for, instilling an instant feeling of peace. If Tauriel hadn’t been against caging such a beautiful creature, she might have endeavored to keep one as a pet in her room back in...Mirkwood.

Tauriel launched herself to her feet, letting out a sigh of frustration. Running an agitated hand through her copery locks, Tauriel paced. Her fingers itched to hold a bow and arrow, to curl around the handle of a knife. She wanted a battle, a real one; not the duals she had with the other elves who desired to keep themselves in shape. 

Lorien was quite possibly the most peaceful place Tauriel had ever been to. Being here had healed her, kept Tauriel’s soul tethered to her body instead of simply departing from this world.

But Tauriel was not meant to be idle. She was not meant to languish with other elves, or to cower with the other elf-women while their men went off to fight.

She needed to /do/ something. 

As if in answer to her thoughts, a white light appeared at Tauriel’s right. The very light that seemed to simply radiate from Galadriel, lighting up everything around her. 

Fair One indeed.

The Lady appeared from behind a nearby tree, walking toward Tauriel with slow, unhurried steps. Galadriel, it seemed, was never in a hurry to do anything. While Tauriel didn’t exactly understand that, she found it exceedingly difficult to find fault in anything she did.

It was easy to see why so many loved her. 

“My Lady Galadriel,” Tauriel greeted respectfully, bowing her head briefly. Despite what the Lady may say, Tauriel simply could not bring herself to address her with any familiarity. She did not have the right. 

“Tauriel,” Galadriel greeted simply. Hearing the unspoken command, Tauriel lifted her head and forced herself to meet Galadriel’s eyes. Her knees almost buckled under that endless gaze. Like many times before Tauriel had to resist the urge to prostrate herself before the Lady. Even Thranduil, who Tauriel had respected and served for centuries, didn’t have the sheer /presence/ of the Lady of Lorien. 

Saying nothing more, Galadriel simply walked past Tauriel, the end of her dove white dress dragging along the ground. As Tauriel turned to watch her, Galadriel sat the very bench Tauriel had occupied mere moments before. She gestured to the empty space beside her, and Tauriel was quick to obey.

Once sitting, Tauriel folded her hands in her lap, and kept her gaze on Galadriel. She could no quite meet her eyes, but nonetheless, Tauriel kept held her head high, as she knew Galadriel preferred. 

Galadriel smiled, her blue eyes, for all their eerie glow, soft. 

“Daughter of the Forest,” she said with her lips. Tauriel could already feel her earlier restlessness fading into the background. Even her grief over Kili, still so sharp and painful, seemed to lessen in the Lady’s presence. “What ails you?”

Tauriel ducked her head, feeling suddenly ashamed. Who was she to feel as she did (to be restless) in such a place as Lorien? Especially after all the kindness she had received––after Galadriel herself had aided Tauriel’s healing. If not for her, Tauriel would have faded.

She felt traitorous even thinking of needing...well, more than this idle life she seemed to be living. But she could not lie to Galadriel. Not in her mind, and not with her voice.

“My Lady,” she murmured, staring intently at her hands. Kili’s runestone suddenly flashed in her mind, and she curled her right hand into a fist. “I am grateful for all you have done for me, but––” 

“But you are not a bird to be caged,” Galadriel said, her voice suddenly in Tauriel’s mind. She tensed only briefly, before relaxing. When she hesitantly raised her eyes, Galadriel was looking at her kindly. 

She stood, offering Tauriel a hand up. “Come. There is something you must see.” 

Tauriel accepted the offered hand with only the barest hint of hesitation, and soon she was being lead through the forest, Galadriel’s mere presence seeming to wrap around her like a blanket. Never could Tauriel remember feeling more safe than she did in Lorien. Not even with her parents, when they still lived all those centuries ago. 

She ached at the thought of leaving such a place, but at the same, Tauriel knew she could not stay.

Distantly, Tauriel wondered what Kili would think of this place. She smiled at the thought. 

Whatever path Galadriel had chosen, it allowed them to pass through the woods without encountering a single elf. The Lady was walking more quickly than Tauriel was used to. If anyone could properly display the immortality of an elf, it was her. Galadriel never truly seemed to be in a hurry for any reason; because of course she knew she had all the time she needed to do what she wished. 

When they came across some stone steps, Tauriel was confused. She couldn’t recall being in this part of the forest. The trees were no less familiar than the rest––fresh and green without a hint of decay––but nonetheless, she knew she had not been her before. 

Resisting the urge to question her, Tauriel silently followed Galadriel down the steps.  
They entered what appeared to be a clearing, located at the base of three large trees whose roots closed this space off from the red of the woods. The grass was soft and green underfoot, just as lively as the rest if the plants in Lorien. In the center of the clearing was...Tauriel wasn’t sure what it was. A stone basin, of sorts, half full of shimmering water that rippled ever so gently. 

The designs around the circumference of the basin were intricate, interviewing with each other. Small plants wrapped around the basin. The silver glow Tauriel had never grown accustomed continued to light the world around them.

Tauriel continued to follow Galadriel for a few more steps, before slowing to a stop, feeling suddenly as though she was intruding. This place felt...sacred somehow, and Tauriel was painfully aware that she probably didn’t even deserve upon this clearing, any more than she deserved to look upon the Lady herself. 

Galadriel, completely unperturbed, simply continued forward, her bare feet creating not even the slightest sound upon the grass. She picked up a pitcher resting on the basin, and walked over to a small body of water gathered in a small circle created by tree roots. 

The Lady bent slightly, filling up the pitcher, before turning and proceeding back to the basin. As she stood next to it, she met Tauriel’s eyes, her gaze piercing the Silvan elf like an arrow. 

“Tauriel, Daughter of the Forest,” Galadriel stated, her voice cool and calm, “Will you look into the Mirror of Galadriel?”

It /almost/ sounded more like a demand than a question, except...not quite. Tauriel found herself moving forward, almost without her awareness. 

“If you desire me to, my Lady,” she said with a respectful dip of her chin. “Although I know not why you would bestow such an honor upon me.”

Tauriel could recall hearing about Galadriel’s Mirror, although she was not entirely sure what it was. It saw all, one elf had told her, his voice hushed and awed. That, however, was a bit too vague for Tauriel to discern anything.

This past month had been bewildering. Healing, yes, but bewildering all the same. Try as she might, Tauriel could not figure out why Galadriel would even give her even the briefest of glances. Tauriel was nothing more than a lowly Silvan elf, and Galadriel was...Galadriel.

The smile sent her way was enough to make anyone breathless. Galadriel held out a hand toward her. 

“Daughter of the Forest, look into the Mirror of Galadriel.”

Tauriel could hardly say no, even if she still didn’t understand. And so, with slow steps, Tauriel approached the basin. She gripped the edges, looking briefly toward the Lady. When Galadriel simply continued to smile gently, Tauriel brought her gaze to the water.

She saw nothing of note, at first. The dark water rippled in the basin, calm and gentle. In fact, Tauriel could feel herself relaxing at the sight.

And then it changed. The water was replaced with Kili, smiling cheekily at her from his cell. On instinct, Tauriel leaned forward, his name on her lips.

It changed again. Now she spiders, orcs and some tall, disgusting creature she didn’t recognize. Its features appeared elven, but that couldn’t be right. Its skin was too dark––a sort of reddish black that no creature Tauriel knew of possessed. It bared sharp teeth, its features twisting into a hideous snarl. 

One arm raised, a black haired elf swung his sword at the creature, cutting it down with relative ease, before moving onto the next one. 

Spiders. There were spiders in a forest, attacking elves, using their stingers and many legs to to attack them. 

And Fraeya stumbled, raising her bow––

“No,” Tauriel choked out, gripping the basin tighter. Fraeya couldn’t die. Beautiful Fraeya, who had been Tauriel’s friend for centuries––

Fraeya disappeared, and suddenly Tauriel’s mind was filled with fire. An eye pierced into her, orange fire surrounding a black vortex that Tauriel could feel herself falling, the world whipping around her as she was lost in an endless hell of flaming agony––

Legolas, clasping a man’s shoulder––

A small hobbit, crawling desperately up a hill––

Fraeya dead––

Legolas’ empty eyes––

Mirkwood in ruin, bodies strewn everywhere––

Tauriel wasn’t even aware of shoving herself back from the basin. All she knew was that one moment her mind was consumed with the image of death and fire, and the next she was on her back, staring up at a starlit sky. 

Her chest heaved as she drew in gasping breaths of air. Vaguely, she felt as though she was drowning, her chest caving in as she struggled to breath. She wanted to close her eyes against those horrible images; to block it all out and pretend she hadn’t just seen...just seen––

But Tauriel knew from experience that closing her eyes only made the images more sharper in her mind, more defined.

A single tear falling from Kili’s eye––

And so she focused on the stars, so cold and distant, and yet, for the first time since Kili’s death, beautiful.

The stars were beautiful.

Vaguely, Tauriel was aware of Galadriel approaching her. The twinkle of the stars was overcome with white, ethereal light, seeming to make the Lady’s form glow with a muted form of her power. 

The Lady knelt next to Tauriel, her cerulean eyes shining as she offered her hand.

“Rise, Daughter of the Forest,” the Lady whispered in mind, and just like that, Tauriel was calm.

This sense of tranquility, however, lasted only long enough as it took Tauriel to stand. In a wave, the panic flooded her. Not Fraeya. Not Legolas. Tauriel wouldn’t survive it if she lost either of them.

Scarcely even aware of herself, Tauriel paced away from Galadriel, saying frantically, “That cannot happen. I won’t let it.” Losing Kili was already painful enough. Anything else would be unbearable.

“My Lady,” Tauriel said, whipping around. “I––” She was stopped when Galadriel held up a hand.

Again, a voice in her mind. “You must go. Mirkwood needs you.” Galadriel approached her, gently taking Tauriel’s hand in her own. “Your part in this story is not yet over.” 

And then the Lady reached within her sleeve, retracting something that she pressed in Tauriel’s hand. “Take this, and let it offer you comfort.”

Tauriel opened her hand, and froze. Laying there was a simple strip of fabric, the right size to fit around her wrist. It was a tanned brown, easily matching her armor, with a small brass buckle that would hold it together.

But that was not what captured Tauriel’s attention so thoroughly. 

“Amrâlimê” was etched into one side. On the other, the runes from Kili’s stone. The very one she had given back to him, after…

With tears streaking down her cheeks, Tauriel touched the bracelet to her lips, and smiled.

****  
She went back to Mirkwood. 

She went home.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation of the first song:
> 
> "Come to Me, you tired and heavy-laden  
> Come to Me with all your weariness  
> Here with Me is where you'll find your haven  
> And I will give you rest  
> Yes, I will give you rest" 
> 
> "Rest" Lyrics  
> by Downhere | from the album On The Altar Of Love
> 
> Tell me what you think!


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